The Hermione Chronicles
by emani-writes
Summary: A series of one-shots featuring Hermione Granger in "romantic" situations with various other characters from the Harry Potter Universe. Rated M for language, sexual situations, and very OOC characters. This is my version of NaNoWriMo. Partners so far: 1-DM, 2-HP, 3-LL/TN, 4-VK, 5-MF, 6-SS, 7-FW. MOST RECENT PAIRING: Remus Lupin
1. Draco Malfoy - Hurried Hookups

**Pairing:** Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy

 **Word Count:** 2,487

 **Rating:** M for language and sexual situations.

 **Warnings:** Rough sex though not terribly explicit. Hair pulling. Very OOC characters. Unbeta'd and relatively unedited.

 **Date Published:** 11/1/2016

* * *

The atmosphere was cheerful and overwhelming. The large group of mostly Gryffindors took up nearly a quarter of the bar, cheering enthusiastically and toasting to someone, presumably Neville Longbottom as the man's cheeks never seemed to stop blazing in embarrassment.

Draco eyed them curiously, watching as the Golden Trio took shot after shot.

"Thinking about buying them a round?" Theo Nott drawled in an exaggeratedly bored tone, snapping Draco's attention back to the lanky brunette at his own table. He smirked knowingly at Draco before sipping his Ogden's Finest, year 1848, the best vintage available at the lower end places like the Leaky Caldron.

Draco rolled his eyes. "And why would I do that?"

Theo shrugged, a lazy habit he'd picked up during their time at Hogwarts. "They do seem to be celebrating. And you do seem inordinately interested in the festivities." Theo swirled his drink before throwing back the rest. "Or someone."

Draco could feel his cheeks pinken and his grey eyes shot daggers at the smug bastard he called a best mate. Pulling his emotions under tighter control, he sniffed arrogantly, picking up his own glass to stare at the amber liquid. "Aren't you the faintest bit curious about how the Gryffindorks behave when they're pissed?"

Chuckly darkly, Theo signaled Tom for another round. "School yard taunts, eh? You must really not want me to know how interested you are in our dear, sweet, little war heroine."

"Shut up, Theo." Draco scowled.

Eyes dancing with mirth, Theo leaned on his elbows closer to Draco. "Think she likes it a little rough? I mean, she did seem particularly pleased after punching your ugly mugg third year. I believe it wouldn't be too far to say she was _flushed_ with delight."

Reaching up to rub subconsciously at his nose, eyes straying once again to the party going on across the bar, Draco's scowl deepened as Theo let out a bark of laughter.

Huffing, Draco swallowed his drink before slamming the glass back to the table. "Not that it matters," he groused. "I bet Granger is a terribly boring drunk."

Theo's grin was positively feral. Draco swallowed uncomfortable. "Why don't you go find out for yourself," Theo suggested, jutting his chin toward the small alcove near the bar that lead to the washrooms. "Granger's just excused herself. You could chat her up as she's coming out."

"I will," he said in a huff, surprising both himself and Theo. He made his way elegantly around the bar, arranging himself casually with an eye toward the alcove Theo had pointed to. He only has mere moments wait before Granger emerged, face flushed a light pink that made Draco's scowl briefly remembering what Theo had said about third year.

To his delight, Granger stopped at the bar, signaling for Tom for another drink. Casually as he could, Draco sidled up to her, leaning his hip against the aged wood.

"Can I buy your next round?"

Polite smile gracing her lips, Hermione turned toward him only to startle, her eyebrows rising in surprise. "Malfoy," she said, not unkindly, and Draco breathed a small sigh of relief when she didn't immediately glare at him. In fact, the smirk that crossed her delicate features did something decidedly delicious deep in his gut. "Fancy seeing you in a place like this."

The warmth just beginning to suffuse his system soured. He immediately blanked his expression, as he felt his spine straighten. "I didn't realize I was unwelcome, Granger. Have a good evening."

Her small hand reached out and grasped the sleeve of his robes as he turned to leave. "I'd be delighted, Malfoy."

Draco was taken aback a moment, unable to remember quiet what she was talking about. Granger just smiled. "But only if you'll have a drink with me."

Blinking owlishly a moment, Draco's face broke into a winning smile as he turned to signal Tom yet again. "We'll have two of whatever she's having."

Hermione watched him, amused, her eyes locking with his a moment before she realized Tom was waiting expectantly for her to order. "Oh!" she gasped in some surprise, glancing back and forth between Draco and Tom a moment. "Firewhiskey. Ogden's. Do you have the 1769 vintage by chance?" she asked, leaning in to scrutinize the barkeep with an unrelenting stare.

Tom stared back a moment before clearing his throat. "Fraid not, Miss Granger. 1812's the best we got."

Nose scrunching up momentarily, she waved him on with a smile, even as Draco turned to scoff at the barkeep for holding out on him and Theo earlier. "That'll do just fine. Thank you, Tom."

The barkeep flushed, before he quickly pulled out two glasses and poured a healthy dose into each. He slid them across the bar to Hermione before turning to help another customer further down.

Handing a glass to Draco, she turned with a full watt smile, raising her own glass. "What are we celebrating, Malfoy?"

"That you can get a better vintage whiskey than either Theo or I."

She clinked their glasses together with a smirk before taking a healthy sip. Draco watched appreciatively as she didn't sputter or cough despite the large mouthful.

Tearing his eyes away, he nodded his head toward her friends. "What are you really celebrating, then?" he asked, sipping delicately.

Following his line of sight, she rolled her eyes and waved off Potter who was eyeing her skeptically. "Neville's just got the post as Hogwart's newest Herbology professor," she announced cheerfully, turning back to Draco. "Isn't that wonderful, Malfoy?"

Draco snorted before smirking into his drink. "Better than Potions, for certain," he said, cursing himself for blushing again when Hermione grinned, catching his eye as they shared the small joke.

"But if you didn't know that, why the offer to buy us all a round, Malfoy?"

Not expecting the swot to be nearly this forward, Draco coughed. Clearing his throat, Draco threw back the rest of his drink, deciding to let his curiosity win. "Would you believe me if I told you I was curious how you all behave when you're drunk?"

Laughing heartily, Hermione leaned back against the bar and gave him a mischievous smile. "Did you ever wager you could just ask me, Malfoy? Might save yourself a load of galleons and the suspense."

Draco signaled for Tom to refill their glasses, waiting to hand over hers before fixing her with an intense gaze. "So," he drawls out, affecting an arrogant air. "Tell me Granger."

Smirking up at him in a way that would have made Theo proud, Granger spun dramatically, back against the bar, shoulder burning where it brushed Dracos. "Well," she began, eyes squinting as she sought out each of her friends in turn. "Our dear Harry tends to get maudlin when he gets too deep into his cup," she announced, turning to him with a full, pouting lip that Draco couldn't take his eyes off of before she again turned to resume her musing. "Ron, as you might suspect, can be a bit of a violent drunk. If he isn't clingy with his mates or handsy with the birds, he's trying to pick a fight. Neville," she said, pointing as if Draco couldn't remember who Neville bloody Longbottom was, "he gets introspective, though don't let that fool you," she said sternly, jabbing her finger once, twice into his shoulder. "One of the best debates I've ever been a part of was with a pissed-out-of-his-gord Neville. And Luna, well." At this, her voice turned resigned. "I can't quite ever tell whether she's drunk or not. Mind, I've seen that witch drink even George Weasley under a table and she's just as airy and spritely as she ever was back at Hogwarts, waxing poetic about Nargles and Wackspurts."

"What the bloody hell are Nargles and did you say Wackspurts?" Draco cut her off, his brows in his hairline as he stared incredulously at the slip of a witch beside him.

"Haven't the foggiest," Hermione said, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. "And don't cut me off. I haven't shared the best one with you yet."

At this Draco smiled, turning more into her space, leaning forward just slightly. "Yeah? And who's the best one, Granger?"

Hermione grinned up at him. "Seamus and Dean, of course."

"What?" Draco said, taken aback.

"Yeah. Those two were barmy for each other back at Hogwarts. Thought they did such a good job of hiding it from everybody, though if you're basing that on Harry, you could have placed a full grown Hippogryph in the room covered in a ratty blanket, told him it was a table cover, and he'd never questioned it."

There was a long pause. "What?"

Hermione turned fulling into his space, obviously amused. "Seamus and Dean. They're together. Have been since fifth year. Shared a dorm with Harry and everything and he was utterly floored when they came out after the war. You should have seen his face as he tried to figure it all out. Quite amusing."

And again. "What?"

"I know, right? Completely obvious." Hermione's eyes sparkled with delight, as her fingers graze his arm, giving him a deliriously good rush.

Draco stood there for a long moment, surreptitiously breathing in her scent while trying to puzzle through what all she'd just told him. "Well, what about you, Granger?" he finally blurted, jerking himself from her overwhelming bubble.

His breath hitched and heart quickened when she looks up at him predatorily from beneath her eyelashes.

"Me, Malfoy?" she breathed, before biting her pink-stained lip only to let it slide out from between her teeth. "I would have thought that were obvious." She turned, pressing her fingertips into his chest, pushing his lower back more firmly into the bar as she molded herself to his front. Her breath ghosted over his face as she spoke. "I become a bit of a slag."

* * *

The sound of Apparation rang loudly in Draco's ears. The pair stumbled into Hermione's apartment, tongues lashing, teeth clacking, kissing roughly. Hands pulled at robes, mussing Draco's hair and sending Hermione's into a wild halo about her head at shirts were removed and strewn carelessly about the sitting room. Draco gasped in surprise when small hands pushed him forcefully against the door with a clatter before Hermione was on him again, practically climbing his tall frame so he was forced to grab her arse tightly, hoisting her against him as she kissed and bit at his collarbone.

"Gods, you're bloody fit," she moaned against his naked chest. She ground herself against his clothed groin so aggressively his mind went momentarily blank, only to come back to himself to find she'd twisted herself from his grasp and was sinking to her knees before him, fumbling for his belt.

He buried his hands into her mess of hair as she pulled him free from the confines of his pants. "Merlin's tit, Granger. Slow down."

Thoroughly ignoring him, Hermione licked a wide, wet stripe up his length before wrapping a tight fist around him and smiling wickedly through her eyelashes.

"Awww," she cooed, ever the mockery of true sympathy. "Is it too much for you, Malfoy?" And without waiting for an answer, the chit sucked him into her mouth with gusto and Draco lost the ability to breath.

The sensations were overwhelming. Draco's legs shook with the Herculean effort it took just to remain upright as Hermione put to use every talent she'd ever learned. And when she finally pulled her flushed-red lips from him with the most obscene popping noise, he nearly sobbed, though whether from relief or disappointment, he couldn't quite tell.

"Fucking hell, Granger," he gasped, panting like he'd run a race, staring down at her as she continued to pump him roughly. The smug smile she shot up to him made his chest tighten, adrenaline floodings his already saturated system. He growled, actually fucking growled, at her as she had the audacity to place little teasing licks to him.

And then she winked.

Draco roared. Tugging roughly on her mane of hair, he pulled her to her feet. She gasped at the pain, only to moan wantonly as Draco pressed her back against the arm of the sofa, rutting into her like some sort of beast as he thoroughly claimed her tangy mouth.

She panted hard as he bit back along the curve of her jaw. "What do you want, Granger?" Draco breathed wetly into her ear, causing her to shiver.

He pressed his hand between her legs. "You," she moaned, attempting to mold herself more firmly to him.

She cried out as he tugged the hair still clasped tightly in his fist, and bit down on shell of her ear. "You can do much better than that. Use your words, little swot."

Groaning, long and low, Hermione pressed her lips to his in desperation. "Fuck me," she whispered against his lips. "Please, Draco."

He spun her roughly so her back was pressed to him before reaching around to thumb open the button of her jeans. He yanked down her pants and knickers so they rested around her thighs before pushing her over the arm of the cough and entering her with a hard thrust.

The room filled with the sounds of their pants and moans as they coupled, and grind of the couch being incrementally pressed across the room. Hermione came with a scream only a moment before Draco followed with a grunt. He draped himself across her glistening back, breathing heavily into her shoulder blade as their heart rates slowly returned to normal.

With a pained groan, Hermione reached back and slapped ineffectively at wherever she could reach. "Get off," she slurred, beginning to wiggle beneath him. "Heavy."

Draco stood awkwardly, immediately glancing about for his discarded clothes as Hermione stood, unperturbed, and stretched languidly.

"That was bloody brilliant, Malfoy," she groaned, arching her back in a shameless display of skin, her obvious patchwork of scars no deterrent nor detriment to her alluring form. Draco could not for the life of him figure out where to put his eyes and he once again felt his cheeks blush hotly.

Shimmying the rest of the way out of her jeans, Hermione ran an assessing eye over him. "Well," she announced, turning to walk down a hall Draco had failed to notice upon initially entering the apartment. "I'm off for a shower."

Something dark and empty opened up in the pit of Draco's stomach, though he forced a passive face and nodded at her retreating back, though his eyes were glued to the sway of her naked hips. She turned abruptly and smirked when she caught where his eyes had wandered. Draco averted his eyes and his cheeks burned.

"Care to join me?"

His eyes snapped to hers and he was to her and down the hall before she could even peel out a giggle.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Okay, seriously. When I said above this was relatively unedited, I meant it. I'm trying to teach myself to _just write_ rather than my current habit of going back to review every few paragraphs and nit picking the everloving crap out of word choice and sentence structure so there are likely some awkward, long, run-on sentences. This is just supposed to be a fun exercise so I'm telling myself I don't care even though I _totally do_ , so feel free to point them out (preferably politely if you think you can manage) and I may or may not fix them. This is also why I sort of hate the first half of this story but I'm publishing it anyway rather than completely reworking it like I thought about doing this morning.

Anyway, if you have a pairing of interest (obviously with Hermione, per the series title), feel free to let me know in the comments or via PM. I'm kinda weird and a little awkward but I promise I'm otherwise friendly! I mean, unless you're an asshole, in which case I'll feel mildly offended but then most likely laugh at you in a judging way. Comments are sweet ambrosia!


	2. Harry Potter - Never Was

**Pairing:** Hermione Granger and Harry Potter... sort of, not really.

 **Word Count:** 2,675

 **Rating:** K for nothing. T(w)een angst mostly.

 **Warnings:** Unbeta'd and relatively unedited. Other than this not being canon, I don't really feel like either of them are being terribly out of character. Feel free to disagree.

 **Date Published:** 11/2/2016

* * *

 **HERMIONE:** Hermione Granger was beside herself. Never in her nearly twelve years had she ever had the opportunity to actually meet someone she'd read about in one of her innumerable books.

Granted, Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, supposed savior of the wizarding world at the age one, didn't really have the _look_ of a hero. He was scrawny, not nearly so tall as a hero should be. And his clothes were rather ratty and torn, nothing so fine as the robes of the heros in the fairy tale she would read as a child.

Logically, Hermione understood that those other heroes were fantasies. Exaggerations her mother had explained, a prop used by storytellers the world over to make their fables more interesting. Unfortunately, the reality left a bitter taste in her mouth that she vowed to resolve to the best of her ability. It really wasn't fair of her to make too hasty a judgement even if the books had led her to believe Harry Potter was wizarding royalty, on par with Princes William and Harry. In fact, she decided, rather proudly, Harry's appearance and apparent lack of knowledge of the wizarding world in general simply added to his appeal. Made him more _relatable_. He was like her. New to it all, just now learning his way in this exciting, new world.

She, Hermione Jean Granger, was on equal footing with the Boy-Who-Lived.

This was an opportunity she was not going to squander. Certainly not. Rather, Hermione resolved, she was going to dedicate herself even _more_ to her studies. Surely, he (and many others) would be impressed with how quickly she picked up the material after having believed for her whole life up to this point that magic was the stuff of fantasy. Maybe, just maybe, Hermione secretly hoped, she could even _help_ Harry.

She flushed brightly at the idea. Obviously a wizard so naturally gifted wouldn't need her help. But still, she wondered. At the very least, he was polite. All the more so when compared to the ginger-headed dunderhead he'd sat with on the Hogwarts Express. Who, she wondered absently, cared so little about their appearance they didn't bother to clean their face? Harry Potter had a clean face, even if his glasses had needed fixed.

The train lurched, slowing as they approached the station. Butterflies erupted in Hermione's stomach at all the wonderful things she might see. What house might she be in? What house might _Harry_ be in? Hermione nearly squealed in anticipation. Taking a moment to compose herself (" _Keep it together, Hermione."_ ), she sent up a silent prayer to the magical gods, whoever they may be, that she was placed in the same house as Harry Potter.

From here on out, her life was going to be wonderful. Hermione just knew it.

* * *

 **HERMIONE:** What really cemented Hermione's feelings for Harry Potter was the night he rescued her from the troll. Of course, Ronald Weasley was there too, despite having been so cruel to her hours before. She supposed she could forgive him his crass words since he _had_ helped. Begrudgingly. And she had lied on his behalf, but really! That was more for Harry's benefit than Ronald Weasley. Because if any one of them deserved to have their life threatened by the worst smelling creature she'd ever had the misfortune to behold, it was that pig headed prat. Followed very closely by Draco Malfoy, the tosser.

But Harry. It was so very difficult for Hermione to keep her feelings in check. She'd never had anyone she'd call a true friend before and here she was, practically best mates with her crush. She fantasized, sometimes. About confessing her feelings for him and Harry telling her he fancied her as well. Then maybe he might hold her hand between classes or while they studied together in the library.

But no, she thought. She may wish that Harry fancied her, but it certainly wasn't worth risking her friendship with him. Or Ron either, she supposed. Because even if she was included now, it was still blatantly obvious they would chose each other over her. Better if she pretended she never had those feelings at all.

* * *

 **HARRY:** Strange, deep emotions churned through Harry's guts after the successful trip with Hermione's time turner.

Sirius was safe.

Buckbeak was safe.

Professor Lupin was a werewolf.

Hermione… Hermione was brilliant. There was no other way to describe her. Harry knew, had known in fact since no longer than a month into his experience at Hogwarts, that Hermione Granger was the smartest, most hard working person he'd ever had the chance to meet. And nothing proved that more than that she'd so willingly put herself at risk to help him save Sirius. And yes, while the disappointment of Pettigrew getting away burned hotly in his chest, he in no way blamed _Hermione_. If anyone was at fault, it was Snape.

It was late. Harry felt like he'd been up for days, and thanks to the time turner, he nearly had. But despite the weariness threatening to settle in as the adrenaline wore off, Harry couldn't take his eyes from Hermione as she, with the patience of a saint Harry thought, explained the night's adventures to a skeptical and perhaps slightly drugged Ron. Bright, unfiltered moonlight shone through the Infirmary windows, highlighting her wild hair and pretty features.

Harry started at that thought. Pretty. Hermione was _pretty_. Harry didn't understand how he'd never noticed before, too caught up, he supposed, in just how clever she was. But after tonight, after she'd helped him save only connection to his family he'd ever found. Harry's chest hurt at the marade of feelings swirling in there. Feelings he didn't understand and couldn't readily identify.

Except for one.

Harry Potter thought Hermione Granger was pretty.

He flushed, thankful for the washed out sliver of the moon, hoping desperately it hid his blushing cheeks. So lost in his thought, it took him a while to realize Ron had spoken.

Harry felt his flush heat up down his collar, blinking owlishly at his two best mates who stared back at him with a look of concern and annoyance respectively. Harry coughed awkwardly to clear the embarrassed lump in his throat. "Sorry?"

"Alright, Harry?" Hermione's lilting tones tingled through his system before settling tight and warm in his belly.

"Yeah, yeah, fine," Harry huffed, running a hand through his dirty hair.

"I asked if you were going to be staying with Sirius, mate. Where were you just now?" Ron asked, brows drawn together in mild irritation and confusion.

"No where," Harry said quickly, hoping to cover his embarrassment. From the look Hermione shot him, he wasn't doing a great job. "Just tired," he winced, hoping Ron would drop it. "And Sirius did offer to let me come live with him after this all got sorted," Harry quickly put in when it seemed that Ron was about to speak again. Harry smiled, before it suddenly dimmed. "But that was before…" His shoulders slumped as the weight of losing Pettigrew finally fully settled around him.

Hermione cut in then, trying to smile reassuringly. "You should speak with Professor Dumbledore, Harry. He knows Sirius is innocent. Perhaps he could make the arrangements?"

Harry smiled wanly. Yes. Trust brilliant, clever Hermione to know just what to do. He would go to Dumbledore. First thing in the morning. And just maybe, Hermione could come visit him over the summer hols.

* * *

 **HARRY:** It hadn't worked out, much to Harry's unending disappointment. Sirius was a _fugitive_. It was much _too dangerous_ for him to attempt to care for a teenager while on the run himself. The home of his uncle and aunt offered him _protections_. And the icing on the cake, the excuse the really got under Harry's skin: didn't Harry agree that his relatives must _miss him_ dreadfully? If he hadn't been trying so hard to fight back his tears of disappointment, he might have laughed. Or broken something. And the worst of it, the absolute worst? Harry hadn't gotten to see Hermione nearly all summer. At least, not until just before the Quidditch World Cup where he'd spent the better part of his time silently seething every time Fred Bloody Weasley would so much as approach Hermione.

Harry wasn't blind. It certainly seemed to him that the older boy was flirting with and teasing Hermione every chance he got, and for her part, Harry thought uncharitably, it didn't seem as if Hermione was trying to dissuade him of the notion.

Well, fine then. If that was how it was going to be. And to really top everything off, Ron, too, seemed to be doing far more than his fair share of staring at Hermione in ways that seemed to make her uncomfortable. She would be reading at the breakfast table as she always did when her head would dart up to catch Ron looking. Her cheeks would flush and she would seem to curl into herself, often crossing her arms across her chest as if to hide herself from him. And Harry would crow with victory inside his own head, only for Fred to plop himself down and Hermione's cheeks would darken still, but her posture would relax, and she'd shyly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes cutting over to the stocky red-head.

Without Quidditch to take his mind off things, Harry lamented this year was going to be one series of frustrations after another.

Then his name was pulled from the Goblet of Fire. And unsurprisingly, Hermione practically moved into the library in her attempts to research every way should could to keep him alive. Just thinking about it made Harry's chest feel light.

And that is exactly where he found her a few weeks before the Yule Ball, working on a Charms essay at her favorite table near the back of the library where the less-studious students rarely ventured.

Harry sat across from her, returning the warm smile she graced him with before ducking her head back down to continue scribbling furiously.

Pulling out his own parchment and quills, Harry made a pretense of working on his essay as he gave himself a quick pep talk.

"Hey Hermione?" he said, hoping for casual though his voice came out strained.

Hermione paused what she was doing, finger marking the point in the passage she'd been scanning before Harry's interruption. "Yes, Harry? Do you need help with something?"

Harry felt his neck flush and he quickly averted his eyes. "Not exactly." Harry tapped his quill in agitation. "See, as a Champion, I'm required to bring a date, right?"

Hermione stared at him incredulously for a moment. "Yes, Harry. I told you that weeks ago."

"Right." Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Right." He let out a puff of air. "Well, I was hoping that you would attend. With me. I was hoping.." Harry stuttered and stumbled over, the words wheezing out tightly at the end as Hermione's face seemed to fall. "Or perhaps not," he mumbled, worried a moment that his face might burst into fiendfyre.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whined, flapping her hands in agitation. "Harry, someone's already asked me and I agreed."

Harry's eyes shot up to meet hers in surprise. "Was it Fred?"

Hermione blinked at him. "Fred? What?"

"Ron?"

She shook her head emphatically. "No, Harry. It wasn't…"

"Who?"

Frozen by his icy tone, Hermione stared at Harry with hurt welling in her soft brown eyes, before she pulled herself up, sniffing imperiously. She began packing up her bag in quick, concise movements, clearly brimming with anger.

"Well," she snipped, and Harry winced. "If you're going to be like that about it, I'd rather not say if it's all the same to you." She stood from her seat, shoving her chair in with a loud grinding, and glared down at Harry. "Best of luck to you finding a date." And in a whirl of robes, she stormed off.

Dread filled Harry at her brusque departure, and Harry hung his head shame.

* * *

 **BOTH:** "It wasn't your fault, Harry," Hermione attempted to comfort him after finally managing to arrive at 12 Grimmauld Place after the start of the Christmas hols and following the attack on Mr. Weasley.

"If anything, you saved his life. Everyone says so."

Harry didn't answer, only scowled down into his bucket of soapy water. Mrs. Weasley had enlisted the help of the resident teens to clean out all manner of magical pest, but somehow Harry had been relegated to the scrubbing the floors. He couldn't seem to help his guilty conscious equating the job to a punishment meant to remind him just how bad life at number 4 was in comparison.

"Harry," Hermione's chiding tone cut through his self-recriminations, and he glanced at her guiltily.

Seeming to take pity on him, Hermione set aside her own wash rag before crawling over to him and pulling him into a hug. She pulled his head to her shoulder, rubbing his back soothingly and Harry felt himself relax into her embrace. As if of their own accord, his arms rose to wrap themselves around her, pulling her in tighter.

They held one another for long moments, Hermione continuing to murmur reassurances all the while petting at Harry's hair and back. Taking the rare bit of comfort, Harry buried his nose into her neck, breathing deeply before, without conscious thought, he placed a small thank you kiss on the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

Startled, Hermione stilled a moment before urging him away from her to look questioningly into his eyes. "Harry?" she breathed, breath ghosting over Harry's face a moment before he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

Hermione squeaked in surprise, though she relaxed into the kiss soon enough. Neither teen made any attempt to move, simply kneeling awkwardly on the floor with their mouths flush. Harry pulled away first, humming.

"Harry," Hermione asked, tone cautious and unsure. She touched fingertips to her own lips. "Did that… was that.."

"Weird?" Asked Harry. Flushing and running a hand through his shaggy hair.

Hermione let out a relieved chuckle. "Yes. Sort of like greeting a my Nan."

Huffing in mock offence, Harry crossed his arms, before shooting a daggered glare. "I don't think it was as bad as all that," he declared hotly before reassuring Hermione with a smile. "But I agree. It felt like I was kissing my sister. If I _had_ a sister," he muttered the last, lips twerked in contemplation.

Hermione nodded emphatically. "It's kind of a relief actually."

"How do you figure?"

Hermione scooted around until her back was toward the closest piece of furniture in the room, knees bent before her. "Well," she stated in a rush. "I know that you're very important to me, Harry. But I haven't felt as though it was a… romantic sort of love since fourth year."

Harry startled. "Are you saying you fancied me fourth year?"

"No," Hermione said, crossing her arms defensively. "I'm saying I haven't fancied you _since_ fourth year. I actually fancied you first year, and maybe a bit again in fourth until you were a right prat."

"Yeah," Harry said, scrubbing his face with his hands. "Sorry about that." He pushed her shoulder lightly. "At least I wasn't so bad as Ron?" He asked hopefully, grinning mischievously.

"Worse," Hermione laughed, squealing when Harry pushed her over onto the dusty floor. She righted herself, brushing off the dirt with a last chuckle. They sat in companionable silence for a long moment.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever wish you'd had a sibling?"

Harry sniffed, shrugging his shoulders as he looked away to hide the tightness in his eyes. "Yeah."

"Me too."

The silence now stretched uncomfortably between them, until, "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"How about for Christmas this year we declare ourselves siblings?"

Hermione flushed when Harry fixed her with an intense gaze, before he settled down next to her, leaning his head on her shoulder. "Yeah, Hermione. I think I'd like that very much."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Day 2 complete! So I actually made a list of 20 potential matches and how they might have hooked up (or not as the case may be - see above), and while I'm certainly not married to most of this list, I think it hits a lot of bases. Still feel free to offer up your suggestions because if more folks are interested, I'll make a good old college try to focus on those pairings first.

And now, in a show of appreciation, I'd like to thank the following people for commenting on my first chapter featuring Draco Malfoy: _Divergent4ever098_ , _Draconian666_ , _pianomouse_ , and _tenderheartinablender_. You guys are awesome and cool and pretty/handsome as the case may be.


	3. Luna Lovegood & Theodore Nott - Bound

**Pairing:** Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, and Theodore Nott

 **Word Count:** 1,017

 **Rating:** M for sexual situations.

 **Warnings:** Triad (F/F/M). Established relationship. Light BDSM and bondage. Spanking. Nothing explicit. All are adults and willing participants. The way I see it, Hermione is the sub, Luna the dom, and Theo is a switch, though he plays dom in this scene with Luna. If you care, the type of bondage Luna is practicing is shibari. Google searches are at your own discretion and _will_ be NSFW. Unbeta'd and relatively unedited.

 **Date Published:** 11/3/2016

* * *

Hermione moaned around the scarf tied securely around her head.

Ever the doting lover, Luna had spent the better portion of two hours cinching and smoothing and tying the long silk ropes, creating beautifully intricate patterns that bit wonderfully into Hermione's skin. She'd been on edge for nearly as long, Luna taking breaks from her tying to check her work and to caress at Hermione's delicate skin, causing her to shiver with desire and longing. Her chest heaved with her heavy breathing, pressing the ropes around her in an all encompassing hug, and her eyes fluttered closed.

Delicate fingers wove through her mass of curls. "You're doing so well, Hermione," Luna cooed, the airy quality of her voice belying the clear focus she lent to her task.

The roar of the floo caused Hermione to stiffen in her binds, whimpering. Wide, anxious, brown eyes stared intently at the open bedroom door. Luna looped a finger through one of the knots climbing up her secured arms, tugging hard, centering Hermione before panic could set in. "Now, now, loveling," Luna's voice remained ethereal and unconcerned. "You know it's only Theo."

Desired flared brightly in her chest and Hermione moaned.

A sharp crack echoed through the room, and Hermione startled and squealed, pressing against her bonds even as her backside blossomed in pain that quickly dulled to a low throb. "None of that, Hermione." A second crack rang through the air and Hermione bit back the groan that threatened to steal from her throat. "You want to be a good girl for Theo, don't you?" Luna asked, cool hand massaging the warmed skin of her bottom, and Hermione nodded, frantic. "And good girls keep quiet for their Sir's, do they not?" Again, Hermione nodded, squeezing her eyes shut tight against the embarrassed flush she could feel inching down her naked chest. She wanted this, needed it in fact, but that didn't keep her from the feelings of shame that sometimes engulfed her from being so weak.

Shoes scuffed lightly on the soft carpet of the hall as Theo approached their shared bedroom. Luna shifted to kneel behind Hermione and she nearly whimpered at being being so exposed to the open bedroom door. Hermione felt her heart race, panting breaths increased in the anticipation.

Then Theo was there, filling the door frame with his tall, wiry form. Satisfaction suffused Hermione, filling her belly with warmth as she watched his rich brown eyes widen in surprise and blatant arousal, taking in her nude and kneeling form in the middle of the oversized bed.

"Luna?" His voice was deeper than normal, and Hermione felt it wash over her like warm chocolate.

From behind her, Hermione could feel Luna shift. "Isn't she lovely, Theo?" Hermione felt a tug against the restraints crossing her chest and stomach, causing her to arch her back and thrust out her small breasts. "Our Hermione has been such a good girl for me while you've been gone."

He licked his lips. "I can see that."

He draped his long peacoat over the wingback chair beside the door before stepping into the room. Hermione watched hungrily, body shaking, as he removed his tie and loosened the top three buttons of his crisp shirt with calm, deliberate motions. Slowly, so slowly, he approached the bed until he stood before Hermione, thighs pressed to the mattress. Dropping her eyes dutifully, Hermione held her breath as he reached out with an elegant hand to run his fingers along the black ropes that tied Hermione's calf to her thigh, before his hand ventured further to brush between her legs.

Body taut with tension, Hermione loosed a shuttering breath, struggling to keep herself quiet at his gentle ministrations.

"Beautiful," he whispered, breath ghosting over Hermione's exposed flesh, and her flush deepened.

Leaning over her shoulder, chest brushing against the ropes, Hermione could hear as Theo thoroughly kissed Luna in greeting. He remained, shirt brushing against her straining nipples, even as his questing fingers caressed her from hip to ribs. "I'm certainly not complaining," he said, voice vibrating in Hermione's chest before he pulled back to meet her eyes. "But to what do I owe the pleasure?"

His eyes left her to focus instead on Luna and Hermione felt bereft. A low whine slipped past her throat. Instantly, she was fixed in Theo's stern glare and a restraining hand was wrapped around her throat, not squeezing, but grounding her just the same.

"Luna?" Theo's voice took on a sharper edge. "Why is Hermione bound wonderfully?"

Behind her, Luna hummed. Hermione wondered briefly if she would punish Theo for speaking her her so forcefully. Always, Luna took command in all their scenes no matter which role Theo chose to play, but her reassuring tone never wavered even as she began another series of knots that criss crossed Hermione's wide hips.

"Our sweet Hermione here seems to have come down with an infestation of Nargles." Hermione shivered as a length of rope was dragged, slowly, languidly up from between her legs. "She requested our assistance in removing them."

Theo watched, intensely focused, as the end of the rope finally slithered behind Hermione's hip, and growled.

"Well," he said, fingers continuing to drag and slide over ropes and along ribs and legs and breasts. "We can certainly help her with that." He used a knuckle to tilt her chin up gently, intense gaze causing Hermione to clench and moan. She jerked, teeth clenching around her gag, and Theo smirked when Luna landed another rough smack against her bottom.

"Quiet, Hermione," Luna mused. Another tug on her bonds. "Unless, of course, you want Theo to take you over his knee?"

Theo's eyes lit with delight as Hermione groaned again.

A devilish smirk played across his full lips. "Yes? You like that, Hermione? Want me to pinken that beautiful arse of yours? Spank those Nargles right out of you?"

Hermione moaned, nodding, and strained, attempting to press herself against him. He chuckled darkly.

"Soon, mon chaton," he murmured, beginning to press breathy kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. "Soon."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** So I definitely wrote another piece last night between Hermione and Antonin Dolohov but it's the darkest thing I've ever written and I'm afraid it's too off-putting so I'm going to save it until later in this series so as not to run anyone off. Assuming bondage, spanking, and triads don't already do that. But that's also why I include warnings by chapter. If you like this pairing (grouping?), you can thank _tenderheartinablender_ for suggesting it, as before she commented I hadn't even considered a triad.

 **TRANSLATION:** Apparently, according to my very brief interned search, "mon chaton" means "my kitten" in French. And that's absolutely 100% accurate because the internet never lies.

 **APPRECIATION:** Thank you to the following people for commenting on my second chapter featuring Harry Potter: _pianomouse_ , _Draconian666_ , and _roonO_ whose comments appeared in my email inbox but due to circumstances beyond my control, seem to have been lost to the fanfiction ether. Regardless, I got you, and you peoples are talented and graceful and pretty.


	4. Viktor Krum - Love Language(s)

**Pairing:** Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum

 **Word Count:** 1,624

 **Rating:** T? M? I don't know. What rating are the kids these days throwing out at the mere mention of wanking, anyway? Though I guess there is swearing in Bulgarian to take into consideration as well...

 **Warnings:** I... none? Like I said above, wanking is mentioned in sort of passing as an internal monologue of sorts. No one forces anyone into anything. It all stays pretty PG unless... does above the belt touching rate a PG-13 these days? Did it ever?

 **Date Published:** 11/4/2016

* * *

Following the Yule Ball, Viktor Krum made it a point to spend as much of the remaining Christmas hols with Hermione Granger as possible.

Often this meant sitting next to her at her designated table in the library, pretending to read whichever book he'd haphazardly grabbed, only to actually study her out of the corner of his eye. The way she muttered to herself as she got lost in her reading, the way her nose scrunched at a particularly difficult passage, the dark ink permanently smudged on her fingers. All of it managed to stir arousal and desire and longing deep in Viktor's gut. More than once, he imagined himself kissing those plump, pink, muttering lips, caressing her petite nose with his as he stared into her warm honey eyes, how it might feel to have those ink stained fingers wrapped around his…

But no. Viktor had vowed to himself to be nothing but the consummate gentleman, even if what he really wanted to do was consummate their relationship and declare her to be his for all the wizarding world to see. But she was young. Fifteen to his eighteen years and so very green in the ways of love. He feared scaring her off and thus resigned himself to the soft, shy, decidedly chaste kisses she granted him each time he escorted her back to Gryffindor Tower.

Viktor also resigned himself to wanking. A lot. So frequently, in fact, he feared he might rub himself raw. But his father had always told him that a man must make sacrifices for the ones they hold dear.

So he sacrificed. And sacrificed and sacrificed and sacrificed, at least once per day, everyday, throughout the remainder of the Christmas hols, never going further, never pushing for more.

That was, until the day before term was to reconvene.

He was escorting Hermione to the library after lunch in the Great Hall just as he had the day before, and the day before that. Only this time, Hermione was chatting enthusiastically about a Potions theory she'd recently discovered. And Viktor couldn't help but think she was radiant in her ardor.

Hands gestured about, punctuating her points as she listed them off one by one. Her normally smooth, porcelain cheeks were flushed such a pretty shade of pink in her excitement. Soft eyes sparkled wildly, and her hair. Her hair crackled about her head like it was alive.

His self control snap.

Viktor snatched her small hand out of the air with no more difficulty than he would a Snitch, amused when her jaw snapped shut in surprise. Kissing the back of her hand gently, his dark eyes bored into hers. He took a measured step into her space, watching with delight as her eyes fluttered and her breath stuttered. Leaning down slowly, teasingly, Viktor dragged his lips across her cheek and back to her ear. He nosed at the shell a moment, a feeling much like victory swelling in his chest when she shuddered against him.

"Hermy-own-ninny," he breathed, silently cursing himself for his botched pronunciation, though if Hermione noticed, she gave no indication. "Ver can ve be alone?" Anticipation curled in his belly, only to spike hot when Hermione moaned.

Pulling away, Viktor gifted her one of his rare smiles as he took in the slightly dazed and glassy look in her eyes. She blinked, once, twice before looking around the otherwise deserted hallway, her eyes honing in on a heavy tapestry a few meters away depicting a maiden resting beside a lake.

"There," she said, tightening her grip on his hand as she lead him forward and ducked behind it.

The alcove beyond turned out not to be an alcove at all, but a long, dark, rough-hewn passageway that led to an ascending flight of stairs a few meters off. Viktor had no idea how Hermione had known of the passageways existence, but it would serve his purposes nicely.

He allowed Hermione to drag him several meters down the passage, before stopping. She turned, surprised and wary, but he drew her to him gently, wrapping his arms around her and inching his left hand up her spine and into her mass of hair. Leaning down, he brushed his lips once again along her ear. "Can I kiss you, Hermy-own-ninny?"

Viktor felt himself swell when Hermione only just managed to croak out a breathy yes.

Then he kissed her.

It began like all their other kisses had. Sweet, chaste, a simple pressing of lips. But this time, rather than pull back, Viktor tightened his hold in her hair and slipped his tongue out to glide along her plump bottom lip. Glee filled him when she eagerly brought her own tongue out to meet his.

Deepening the kiss, Viktor traced his free hand down the length of her spine, pressing himself subtly against her belly when she let out a throaty groan. He snogged her in earnest then, sucking and biting at her lower lip before moving lower still to trail kisses along her jaw. Heat coiled tightly in his stomach at the delicious mewling noises Hermione made, grasping his head to hold him to her. Feeling emboldened, he let his hands wander. First down her back to rest possessively on her hips, large fingers just dipping toward her her arse. Then, slowly, so slowly, he inched his hands up her ribs, stopping when his thumbs brushed the bottom swell of her breasts. He rubbed experimental circles on the ribs beneath her breasts. When she made no complaint nor attempted to push him away, he swept his right thumb up, just the barest hint of a graze over the ridged peak of her left nipple.

Hermione keened. Viktor felt like he was flying. Again he grazed both thumbs against her, through the thick wool of her jumper and the many layers beneath.

"Viktor," Hermione whined, her eyes shut tight to the sensations he was sending through her. Viktor watched, enraptured, as Hermione's resolve cracked and she took control of their snogging to press her lips to his in sweet desperation. Viktor nearly shook with barely held restraint as Hermione began to writhe against his taller form, making up in enthusiasm anything she might have lacked in finesse.

Before long, Viktor was forced to gentle the kiss. His hands fell back to her hips, halting her movements though it pained him to do so.

"Mila," he breathed, pressed his forehead to hers. "Kravis, Hermy-own-ninny. Beautiful. You are beautiful." He stroked knuckles down her cheek, smiling when she leaned into his touch despite the warm blush blooming across her skin.

"Viktor…" she sighed, and he had to convince himself he'd only imagined the lust coloring her voice.

"Hermy-own-ninny." He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her forehead sweetly. Gods, how much he wanted her. The desire to tell her just how much was equal parts overwhelming and terrifying. "I vant…" he began only to groan and shake his head in frustration. A fiercely hot blush painted his cheeks. "I vant…Da eba!" he swore, grimacing.

He could do this, damnit. He was a world class flyer and athlete, perhaps even the best Seeker currently in the league, and a TriWizard Champion to boot. There was no reason that he, Viktor Krum, should be so intimidated by the tiny slip of a witch in his arms. Except…

Viktor took a deep, calming breath. Except none of those things mattered to Hermione. She did not care that he was an athlete. She did not care that he could beat almost anyone to the Snitch. She certainly didn't care for the fact that he was a TriWizard Champion as she'd lamented the reinstatement of the games and its barbaric tasks repeatedly and at length. And it was all of those things, not just that he found her breathtakingly attractive, that lead him to asking her to the Yule Ball in the first place. Lead, too, to his current predicament of rapidly spiraling emotions that all centered around her. He wanted her, damnit!

So he let go in an absolute _torrent_ of confessions. Viktor was unsure he'd ever in the entirety of his life spoken so many words at once. Words of desire, words of admiration, confessing his quickly growing feelings for the beautiful, clever, little witch in his arms.

And every last word of it was in Bulgarian.

Reading something into the emotion behind his grand speech, Hermione blushed furiously though her eyes never strayed from his intense gaze.

Finally, the outpouring ceased and Viktor found himself panting slightly after the rush.

Hermione smiled wanly, her hands carding through his closely cropped hair. "I don't… Viktor," she implored. "Viktor, I'm sorry but I don't speak Bulgarian."

Her tone was so earnest in the void left by his confession. Viktor huffed a startled laugh. Despite Hermione being unable to understand a word he'd said, his chest felt lighter, more open, and he recognized the rush of adrenaline flooding through his system. He felt free.

"Will you tell me again?" she asked, her eyes imploring even as they darted away, unsure. "In English?"

Viktor kissed her once more, fiercely. "Da, Hermy-own-ninny," he said, his deep accent rumbling in his chest and he smiled. "In English, meaning vill you be mine?"

A quick burst of anxiety twisted his belly in the moment she stared up at him, blinking owlishly.

"Do… do you mean as your girlfriend?"

Viktor nodded. He had meant far more than that is in his confession, honestly, but girlfriend was a close enough sentiment at the moment. He beamed when Hermione's face split into a radiant smile.

"Da, Viktor," she said, shyly, but with conviction. "Da."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Okay, so there is _something_ going on with reviews. I can see that the number next to the bubble has gone up. Sometimes I even get an email notification and I can actually read what you wrote. This is not to say you shouldn't leave them. _Because you totally should._ Eventually, fanfiction will get it's act together and I'll be able to see your lovely words (they are lovely, aren't they?) and they will be like a balm to my soul. If I do see you via email, I'll be sure to PM you a thank you. If I don't PM you, my apologies in advance. You were one of the poor souls lost to the internet ether. Temporarily. Hopefully.

 **TRANSLATIONS:** _Kravis_ means beautiful in Bulgarian, which you hopefully picked up from sentence when he repeated himself in English. _Mila_ is a term of endearment. _Da eba_ means fuck. Keep in mind, all of this is according to the internet and the internet is never wrong. If by some very unlikely chance _you_ happen to be Bulgarian and that isn't how you say it, I'm sorry that I had to be the one to correct you. It's your own native tongue! Get it together, for crying out loud.

Until next time.


	5. Marcus Flint - Forget the Firewhiskey

**Pairing:** Hermione Granger and Marcus Flint

 **Word Count:** 1,090

 **Rating:** M for VERY bad language and awkward sexual situations.

 **Warnings:** One night stands, extramarital affairs, cursing a man for being a jerk, foul language. Unbeta'd and relatively unedited.

 **Date Published:** Written 11/5/2016, though I technically missed the midnight deadline and am posting a whole 27 minutes into 11/6.

* * *

Hermione had never been so resentful of sunlight in all her life. She groaned, throwing a heavy arm across her pained eyes. Fucking everything hurt. Her eyes. Her head. Her back. Her… pelvis.

Despite her better judgement, Hermione sat up with a jerk, eyes opening with a snap, only to find a bright white room made all the more by the direct morning sunlight stabbing through the window. A quick glance around confirmed it. She didn't recognize any of this, though, yes, those were certainly her lacy pink knickers hanging from a bedside lamp.

Hermione rubbed at her throbbing temples groaning and willing away the queasy feeling rolling about her stomach.

This _really_ needed to stop happening.

No help for it now. Sneaking a glance at her bedmate, Hermione grimaced down at the man sleeping inelegantly beside her. He was tall, broadly built about the shoulders, with dark hair, a nose that had most certainly been broken more than once, and the ugliest teeth Hermione had ever had the misfortune to wake next to. Her parents would have been appalled. Perhaps even more so than about the fact that Hermione did not recognize him. And the absolute worst, he snored, and rather loudly at that. Even in sleep, she resented this man who was doing her ever growing headache no favors.

Yes. Definitely time to leave. Hermione glanced about and amended. Leaving… just as soon as she found her clothes.

Stumbling gracelessly from the bed, Hermione first snatched her knickers from the lamp, slipping them on as she scouted for her bra. She managed to locate it draped across a rather rich looking wingback chair next to what looked like the tattered remnants of her stockings.

"Leaving so soon, poppet?" a gravely voice mocked, causing Hermione to whip around toward the bed, still mostly naked and holding her purple polka dot bra before her as if it would offer any sort of defense.

The dark haired man on the bed huffed a condescending laugh and rolling his eyes, and Hermione's previous resentment instantly turned to loathing.

Merlin's saggy tits, this really, _REALLY_ needed to stop happening.

Hermione sneered at the man before her, "Yes, well, I'm sure we had a lovely time, but I really can't stay." Returning to her search, Hermione snagged her shirt and quickly pulled it on over her raging mane of hair.

Risking a glance, she was frustrated to see his eyes were still on her tauntingly. "Oh," he jeered. " _I_ certainly had a good time."

Hermione's lip rose in disgust. "Bloody delightful, you are," she muttered to herself, locating one of her pumps next to what appeared the be the closet door. It was a shame, really, that they were her favorite pair. Otherwise she might have been tempted to just leave them.

She shouted in triumph when she managed to locate her jeans, finding her wand still inside her pocket. Quickly accioing what remained of her belongings, Hermione finished dressing before she turned one last time to face the man before her she still didn't recognize, though the taunting look of a schoolyard bully currently gracing his features made her stomach drop as if she were missing something vital.

Hands clasped in front of her, Hermione attempted to summon some resemblance of a smile. "Well… Michael," she said, smirking lowly when the man's face fell into an ugly sneer. "I best be going."

"Marcus," he snarled, lip curling to reveal his truly awful teeth.

Hermione felt as though she'd just been doused in ice water. "What?"

"My name, slag, is Marcus Flint."

Oh, bloody buggering _fucking_ hell. Hermione could _NOT_ have slept with _another_ Slytherin. That was _it_. She was _never_ fucking drinking Firewhiskey ever fucking again, she didn't give one bloody fuck how much George fucking begged her.

Hermione was pulled from her silent beratement when the great ape spoke again.

"If you would be so kind as to leave before my wife gets home," he smirked, condescension and superiority prominent across his features. "She does so hate dealing with you common whores."

Hermione Granger could honestly count on one hand the number of times she'd ever actually been blinded by rage. Without conscious effort or thought, Hermione had her wand in her hand and pointed directly at the insufferable, bottom dwelling, cockroach that she'd had the utter misfortune to spend the night with, curse shot off silently and without the flash and flare of color associated with most curses. No, this curse was cunning. This curse was silent. This curse was wordless and absolutely irreversible.

Marcus bloody Flint didn't know that.

His face that had held horror when one third of the Golden Trio had leveled her wand at his prone form, melted into a mocking pantomime of pity.

"And they said you were always so clever, Granger. Always a shame when a celebrity can't live up to the hype."

The smile she leveled his way was positively feral. Hermione felt a bitter sort of delight watching his face fall in the few short moments before she Apparated away.

* * *

It didn't take long for news to spread throughout 's where Hermione Granger worked as a healer that some not-to-be-named pureblood who had been admitted to the Spell Damage Ward with the most frightening and unusual symptoms.

Apparently, every time this particular wizard ejaculated, his entire pelvis would erupt in excruciating pain, "as if his genitals were being forcefully and repeatedly torn from his body," Padma Patil concluded, eyeing Hermione with thinly veiled suspicion as the curly-haired witch failed to completely hide her satisfied smirk. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Healer Granger?"

Her eyes snapped to the disapproving glare of her colleague even as Hermione expertly ignored the question, smiling instead in evil amusement. "Did you say if he's managed to produce an heir?"

Padme pursed her lips. "He has not," she said tightly. "He and his wife are actively trying to conceive so you can see how this might present a problem?"

Fake sympathy marred her features. "I certainly hope he manages to power through for the sake of the line."

Throwing her hands up in annoyance, Padme turned to stalk angrily down the hall. "You are absolutely incorrigible," she growled over her shoulder.

Cupping a hand around her mouth so her voice might carry, Hermione called after her. "Be sure to tell him I said hello."

Padme tossed a rude gesture over her shoulder before turning away at the end of the corridor. Hermione cackled.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I kind of hate this one. I honestly thought it would go better than it did, in terms of writing.

Comments are working again, which means I owe some thank youses for commenting to the following: _tenderheartinablender_ , _pianomouse_ , _smithback_ , and _roonO_. Thank you!


	6. Severus Snape - Punished

**Pairing:** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape

 **Word Count:** 988

 **Rating:** M for sexual situations and eventual language.

 **Warnings:** Established relationship. Consensual. Spanking. Role-play. AU because in my head, everyone is of a legal age which means Snape can't die for that timeline to work. Unbeta'd and relatively unedited.

 **Date Published:** 11/8/2016

* * *

"Do you know _why_ you are here?"

Hermione Granger knelt before him on the cold, hard stone, the perfect presentation of submission written into her every feature. She held her hands behind her back, causing her wool covered chest to press forward, and her eyes were suitably lowered in contrition. The curls of her wild mane shook gently as she nodded.

Severus slammed his hand onto his desk, causing Hermione to gasp and jump with surprise. "I asked you a question, Miss Granger.," his tone turning waspish. "Do you know why you are here?"

"Y-yes, P-professor," she whispered, eyes lowering even further, throat already clogged with tears.

Heat pooled in his belly and Severus smirked delightedly to himself. Oh, he was going to truly enjoy this. Schooling his sharp features into a deep frown, he began to pace around the prone girl, stomach clenching when he noticed her begin to shiver.

"Well?" he demanded, stopped just behind her shoulder, close enough so that she could feel the brush of his robes.

"I…" she floundered for a moment, her hands clenching in her rising panic, before she whipped around to look at him imploringly. "I'm sorry, sir!" she shouted, eyes wide and red-rimmed. "It won't happen again."

He hit his desk again, causing her eyes to drop. "Be silent girl! I did not ask to hear your screeching." He circled around again to stand before her, face twisted into a sneer. "Do you have any idea how many people could have been hurt due to your lack of attention?" Crack! His hand slapped the desk a third time and Hermione flinched. "This sort of behavior is absolutely unacceptable."

"It won't happen again," she sobbed, cutting him off only to shrink back into herself when she realized what she'd done. "I'm sorry, sir! I'm sorry," she gasped.

"No," Severus spoke menacingly. "It most certainly will not. You know, I've half a mind to remove you from my classroom as you obviously can't handle the work."

"No!" she cried, wide, wet eyes snapping to his as she forgot herself yet again. "No, please, sir. You can't! I'll… I'll do anything."

"You dare tell me what I can't do in my own classroom?" Severus seethed, repressed magic coiling around him. "I think at the very least, Miss Granger, I should spank your bottom raw. Perhaps that will be enough of a lesson in respect you won't soon forget."

Severus did not miss the shudder that ran up Hermione's spine at the suggestion, even as her cheeks blazed pink. His stomach clenched at the sight and he only just refrained from reaching out to run a finger along her cheek.

Instead, he turned swiftly, deft fingers unbuttoning his overcoat to drape it on his desk. He sat curtly on his chair, gesturing to his lap with a raised brow.

"P-professor?" She stared at his lap a long moment before her eyes darted up to his and back down. Hermione remained rigidly where she'd been kneeling, swallowing visibly, and Severus felt himself stiffen.

"Now, Miss Granger."

Slowly, as if she feared adding to his wrath is she moved too quickly, Hermione stood awkwardly from her kneeling position, wincing at the obvious ache in her knees, and made her way over to stand before Severus, eyes wide in trepidation. As soon as she stood before him, Severus snatched her wrist and quickly pulled her over his lap, adjusting her so she laid across one knee and angled over the arm of his chair. Leaning an arm over her to keep her in place, he rubbed one long-fingered hand across the globes of her arse. Hermione squirmed at the touch and he slapped her once over her skirt.

"None of that, now, Miss Granger."

Adjusting his arm so she was suitably pinned, Severus reached down and lifted the hem of her skirt up to the small of her back. Hermione bucked. "Professor," she cried in weak protest.

Severus took a moment to eye her pert bottom covered in a thin but modest stretch of cotton before also easing those down her milky thighs. Hermione kicked and cried out, gasping out a frantic protest even as Severus dug in his elbow to keep her in place. He smacked her once, hard, a large red handprint blooming across her arse almost immediately.

Hermione cried out, but stilled.

"That is quite enough Miss Granger. You earned this punishment for your lack of attention and further disrespect." He rubbed her warming skin, delighting in her whimpers. "Fifteen ought to do it. Count them."

And then he went at it in earnest, raining down smack after smack on the cherry red skin of her arse. The first few, Hermione struggled mightily to remain still but by the end she was a writhing, sobbing mess in his lap, barely choking out the last number even as her body went shuddered.

Severus sat still a long moment, hand resting soothingly on her flaming skin.

"Color, love?" he asked, voice soothing yet commanding.

Hermione sucked in a shuddering breath. "G-green, Severus," she muttered, wincing when he dragged his finger along the outline of a handprint. "Bloody hell."

Severus chuckled, grasping Hermione's upper arm to help right her. She settled into his lap with a bit more wincing and muttered curses, and he stroked her back soothingly.

"Are you alright to continue?"

She reared back, glaring at him. "I'm fine," she stated firmly, eyes hard.

Suppressing a grin, Severus merely hummed. "I only wonder, wife, if you could use a break." His tone was teasing, mocking, and the line between Hermione's brow deepened in annoyance.

"So help me, Severus, if you don't fuck me silly, I'll hex your bollocks off. Green, you vial wanker. I'm absolutely fucking green."

Severus didn't even try to hide the wicked grin that spread across his features at her declaration, turning positively feral when she moaned. "As you wish, witch."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Hi, all! Sorry about the brief delay in our programming. I promise I had very good excuses. First I had a client change deadlines on me and seeing how they pay me and all... Then leaves got raked and my garage got cleaned out, I went roller skating, and just today I went to get my hairs cut and I liked how my girl styled my hair so much I called my husband to meet me for lunch and went shopping at Target. Because one does not waste a fantastic hair day, no matter how many stories she may have committed to write.

 **THANK YOU'S:** _pianomouse_ , _smithback_ , and _roon0_ for the win! _Smithback_ requested Snape and I guess I felt like some punishment needed meted out to _someone_ since I managed to fall a little behind. I actually started out attempting a Remus story but he stumbled and stuttered and I gave up for the time being.


	7. Fred Weasley - Negotiations

**Pairing:** Hermione Granger and Fred Weasley

 **Word Count:** 1,622

 **Rating:** M for very frank discussions about sexual situations.

 **Warnings:** Established relationship. AU because Fred's not dead. Dominating female character. Kind of. In a vanilla sort of way though things do get a wee bit kinky. Unbeta'd and relatively unedited.

 **Date Published:** 11/9/2016

* * *

Fred sat amongst scattered parchments and tomes on the battered old couch that dominated the sitting room. His face was awash in concentration, flaming red hair falling scattered to his eyes, head bowed over the heavily edited parchment in his hand.

Hermione watched him from the entry to the kitchen, two steaming mugs of tea held carefully. Pushing off the jam with her shoulder, she padded across the room, setting his cuppa before him, smiling softly when his hazel eyes darted up to meet hers briefly. "Hi."

"Evening," he said, his voice a sigh as he settled back down to his work, scratching out something with one of Hermione's red biros and scribbling furiously for a moment before tossing the parchment down on the coffee table. He leaned back groaning, scrubbing his face with his hands.

Hermione moved to an open chair, reaching forward to slide his mug closer and accepting his thanks with a nod. She glanced over the parchments that papered the table, sofa, and floors surrounding Fred, eyebrows raised high when she saw exactly what spellbook he had opened at his knee. "What are you up to?" she asked, trying and failing to keep her voice neutral if Fred's telling smirk was anything to go by.

"Just making a few notes on a new product idea." He winked at her over the rim of his mug, watching her with amusement as she tried to hide her irritation at his latest experiment.

"Anything interesting?"

A warm, genuine smile split his face and she glared at him before sitting back with a huff, crossing her legs and rolling her eyes. "Nothing you'd like, that's for sure."

Hermione sniffed imperiously, looking curiously around the room and studiously avoiding Fred's smug expression. She hummed once before eyeing him again. He was still mostly in his work attire: robes, jacket, and tie removed, the top three buttons of his shirt undone and sleeves rolled revealing toned, freckled forearms.

Hermione licked her lips, before taking a quick sip of her own cuppa. "And after you've made your notes? Are you coming to bed?" She let her eyes drag heatedly over him then, not being the least bit shy about her perusal.

Fred's face remained a stubborn mask of innocence, though Hermione could see the teasing in his eyes. "... Why?" he asked, tone laced with forced naivete, before the ghost of a smirk lifted the corner of his thin lips. "Did you have something in mind?"

Hermione growled, rolling her eyes in exasperation and dropping her hands still holding her nearly empty mug to her lap. "Oh stop playing coy, you wanker. Are we having sex tonight or not?"

Letting his head fall back, he gazed at her tiredly from beneath his lashes. "Are you going to be horrifically insulted if I say no?"

Pursing her lips in irritation, Hermione tried not to glare. "Most likely."

Groaning, Fred leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees. "Well, then who's play coy?' he exclaimed irritably. "You could have just _said_ you were demanding sex tonight, you bloody chit."

Folding her arms across her chest defensively, Hermione did glare then. "You don't seem as into it if I have to _tell_ you."

Fred snorted at that. "I beg to differ," he muttered, standing immediately and reaching his hand out when she made to leave the room in a huff. "Well, what are you hoping for?" he demanded. Using the grip he now had on her arm, he pulled her to his broad chest, openly leering down at the witch before him, voice dropping deep as he leaned forward to nip at her ear. "Want me to push you up against the wall and ravish you?"

Hermione shivered at the contact, eyes fluttering closed when his lips brushed the curve of her jaw. "That would be alright," she whispered, breathless.

She squealed in surprise when Fred spun her until her back was to his front. Thick arms pinned her to the hard planes of his chest while large hands roved, massaging, pinching, and pulling. Hermione's moan turned decidedly wanton when she could feel him pressing into lower back.

Wet, panting breath ghosted over her ear, making her tingle deliciously. He rutted into her, arms tightening around her. "Want me to shove you down onto the bed and devour you?" he growled.

"Fuck, yes," she breathed, pressing her arse against him, her hands flattening against muscles of his thighs, gripping, and _squeezing_.

Hermione could feel him smirk against her neck before he nipped her skin roughly, making her gasp. "Want me to tie you up and use your body for my own pleasure?" Hands moved until he cupped her breast with one hand and the other slide between her jean clad legs.

"I… maybe?" she said, pressing her thighs together and effectively trapping his wandering hand. She quirked her head to the side thoughtfully, tilting her head around in an attempt to make eye contact. "Would you be amendable to me tying you up?" she asked, voice waveringly hopeful.

Fred immediately ceased his delightful attack on her body, pulling back slightly to look down at her incredulously. "You _want_ to be on top? Then why did want me to take the lead?"

Spinning around in the loosened grip of his arms, Hermione threw her hands around his neck, smiling into the flesh of his adam's apple, which bobbed as he swallowed. "I never _said_ I wanted you to take the lead. I said I wanted you to be into it." She kissed his neck once, twice, before licking a stripe up to his jaw. "And yes," she breathed, delighting as a shiver wracked his stout frame. "Me being on top _does_ sound preferable for this evening's festivities."

"I'm always into it when you're on top," Fred's voice quivered as Hermione dragged a hand down his chest and abdomen to cup him through his trousers. Fred groaned in mock annoyance. "Ugh, fine. You can tie me up. But no funny business," he said sternly, looking down at her and glaring when she teasingly squeezed him. He yanked her hand away, pulling it back up around his neck and rolled his eyes at her mocking smirk. "You aren't going to tie me up just to leave me drowning in anticipation with no relief in sight?"

Hermione pouted, slapping his chest in annoyance. "Oh, honestly Fred. Now you're just taking all the fun out of it."

He stared at her incredulously, eyebrows in his hairline. "My bollocks ached for a bloody week after last time, woman."

"Wimp," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Sadist," Fred retorted. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at his affronted expression, until finally she scowled up at him, nose wrinkled in feigned annoyance.

"Fine!" she said, poking him solidly in the ribs, earning a yelp. "I solemnly swear that you'll get to come."

Rubbing the bruised skin, Fred nodded decisively. "Damn straight."

"Eventually."

" _Hermione_."

Hermione smirked wickedly, hugging tightly around his middle and molding herself to him like a cat. "After I've sat on your face," she all but purred, staring at him lustily with heavy lidded eyes.

Fred stiffened, and his breathing noticeably increased as his hands slid down the arch of her back to grip her arse. "... I'm listening."

" _And_ after you've made me come."

"Yeah?"

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, one finely jointed finger tapping at her chin. She looked at him pointedly. "Five times," she said, her tone brooking no argument. Fred scoffed anyway.

"Five?!" he wailed, releasing his grip on her bum to curl his fingers through her crazed hair, angling her head so he could brush his lips against her distractingly. "Demanding little swot," he whispered against her lips, smirking when she moaned. "Two."

"Three," she growled, biting his lower lip before sucking it into her mouth.

Fred quickly nodded, kissing her deeply. Tongue slid across tongue, massaging and tasting as they kissed. Fred pulled away, peppering kisses along Hermione's jaw. "Hey, love?" he asked, breathless and needy as she writhed against him, breathy moans and gasps escaping her parted lips. She hummed her acknowledgement that she'd heard him.

Pulling away from her, he averted his eyes, blushing hotly. "You going to massage my prostate for me tonight like you did on my birthday?" Fred's voice quivered with barely suppressed desire and his face burned hotter than fiendfyre. They'd only ever tried that once months ago and Hermione had thought the whole experience had proven too much for him.

Reveling in his thoroughly uncommon shyness, a wicked smile spread slowly across her face. "Liked that, did you?" she asked, tone commanding. When all he could do was nod, she hooked her fingers through his belt loops and pulled his hips against hers. "I suppose I could be persuaded."

Fred shuddered. "Wicked," he breathed, clearly excited, clearly nervous.

Hermione released one of his belt loops to smack him awkwardly on his arse, causing him to snort and look down at her condescendingly. She pushed him away and toward the bedroom hallway. "It's an awkward angle," she defended and Fred shook his head in mock pity. Hermione growled.

"Go get on the damn bed, Fred, and if you aren't naked and in position by the time I get in there, I'm going to force you to orgasm until you cry from over stimulation. Do I make myself clear?"

Fred's eyes went wide in surprise before he immediately turned tail and ran to the bedroom, shedding clothes as he went. Hermione sniffed, gathering herself a moment before throwing back her shoulders, tossing up her head, and following behind him at a much more sedate pace.

It was showtime.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Escapism for the win! I don't know how "Fred" I truly feel this characterization is. He's not that teasing or silly but he's also older and tired and it's an obviously established relationship. That whole "don't be coy, you wanker" bit is actually something that I can attest happens in (at least one) married relationship(s), except I refer to my husband as a "dick" instead of a "wanker" and he laughs at me in apparent delight whenever I do, which makes me want to call him a dick again so it cyclical, this marriage business. Anyway, TMI? TMI.

 **ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:** Thank you to _pianomouse_ and _smithback_ for commenting on Chapter 6 featuring Snape.


	8. Remus Lupin - You're Tense

**Pairing:** Hermione Granger and Remus Lupin

 **Word Count:** 1,383

 **Rating:** This was totally going to be a 'T', at worst, but then Hermione got carried away and I have to assume if someone 'finishes' that makes this an 'M'.

 **Warnings:** Established relationship. AU because Remus didn't end up with Tonks or die. Hermione is bossy and Moony shows submission to her because Remus/Moony never showed any signs of being an alpha in the books. Disagree with my decision? Comment! Unbeta'd and relatively unedited.

 **Date Published:** 11/11/2016

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"You're tense."

Remus flinched, turning to glance at her over the back of the couch before scrubbing his stubbled, haggard face with his hands. "Bloody hell, woman. Did you silence your steps before coming in here? I didn't even notice you approach."

Concern deepened in the line between her brows. Hermione set down her steaming mug on the nearby side table before reaching her hands out to run fingers down the back of Remus' neck. He arched his back and groaned.

"I don't know who ever convinced you your senses are _heightened_ just before a full moon, love. I've never found you anything other than distracted." Hermione continued to dig her fingers into the long column of his spine as Remus leaned forward with a moan, allowing her a more unobstructed access over the couch. Muted muttering pricked at her perceptions, muffled by Remus' bent position.

"Care to repeat that?"

Groaning again, Remus righted himself, reaching a hand back to grip hers warmly. "I haven't gotten through this legislation yet," he grumbled, absentmindedly pulling her hand forward to kiss the back. Remus sighed, tossing down the parchment in frustration. "Kingsley said he needed my recommendations on his desk by tomorrow."

Hermione took advantage of his defeated posturing, curving around his neck and dragging her fingers across his chest. She kissed his cheek once chastely. "I could tell from the door you've got a headache, Remus." Her hands left his chest to press cool fingers into his temples, scratching through the shaggy, greying hair of his scalp, and tracing soothing designs along the curves of his features. Hermione's smirk grew the deeper into the couch Remus melted.

"More effective than an Imperious, your fingers are," he grunted, rolling his head to the side to expose his neck to her ministrations. Pressing kisses to the tense lines, Hermione grinned around a nip of her teeth that caused Remus to growl.

"It's just ridiculous to expect you to give a thorough review so close to the full moon," Hermione pouted, pressing breathy kisses along his jaw as her hands continued to knead where she could reach. "Let me help you relieve some of the tension." A small hand slipped down his stomach, grazing the front of his trousers as she fumbled with his belt one handed.

Remus again grabbed her wrist, stilling her. "Hermione," he admonished, even as he turned his head to tease at the inside of her elbow.

Hugging him from behind, Hermione put her head next to his, curls teasing and tickling his neck. "Let me take care of you, you stubborn man," she pleaded, tightening the pressure of her arms when his head fell in defeated submission. "Good boy," she breathed, grinning at the goose flesh that erupted along his arms.

Remus snorted inelegantly, turning slightly to bury his nose behind her ear and scenting her. "How?"

Standing quickly, lest he change his mind, Hermione strode around the couch, pulling Remus to his feet. "On your stomach on the bed, stripped down to your pants," her voice was commanding, warm brown eyes boring into his, watching as the gold pressed in on the green. She grinned toothily at Moony. "Now, Remus." A gentle shove toward the bedroom door is all it took to have his stumbling that direction, pulling his jumper off over his head. He paused in the doorway, hair all askew, shoulders hunched, as he turned back to she wasn't following him.

"What about you?"

Hermione spared him a quick glance, before shooing him further into the room. "Just grabbing the lotion. I'll be there in a moment."

She waited until he turned the corner before stripping down quickly to her bra and knickers. Grabbing the potions bottle containing a brew of her own design, Hermione took purposefully measured steps to the bedroom door. She turned the corner and eyed Remus spread out on the bed, head pillowed on his arms and facing away from her. His clothes were neatly folded as always, set on top of the small dresser.

Not one to waste any time, Hermione strode to the bed, setting down the potion bottle, and climbing up quickly to straddle the backs of Remus' thighs. She ghosted her fingers experimentally down his ribs, stifling a giggle when he squirmed and whimpered. Leaning down and molding herself to his back, knowing how much he loved the skin to skin contact, she pressed her lips to his ear. "Tell me where, Remus." Her fingers continued to play over the rise and dip of his ribs and Remus was nearly whining.

"Sh-shoulders," he gasped out, relaxing minutely when Hermione reared up, pulling her hands away to coat them in the healing potion she's made.

The first brush of hands glided smoothly over the wide expanse of his shoulders, feeling tentatively for the telltale swell of a knotted muscle. Finding more than a fair few, Hermione began using her thumbs, alternating hard, swirling pressure that caused Remus to cry out and groan in pain, with soothing drags that encouraged the sore muscles to expand and relax and Remus to sink and pool deeper into the mattress.

She worked the breadth of his shoulders, even down the swell of his biceps, before continuing her exploration down the length of his back, stopping and working out each knot she found along the way. By the time she made it to the thick muscle of his arse, Remus was a panting mess, moaning out his delight at each touch and pressing himself rhythmically into the rough cotton sheets below as best he could with Hermione still planted firmly on his thighs. At a particularly desperate groan, Hermione slapped down hard on the back of Remus' thigh. Remus jerked in surprise, and Hermione watched in satisfaction as his pale skin bloomed pink.

"Hermione," he whimpered, voice completely wrecked by the delicious working of her fingers.

Hermione smirked, sliding off his thighs but keeping a steadying hand pressing into the small of his back. "Tell me where, Remus," she breathed, not even trying to hide the desire she felt at seeing him so vulnerable.

Moony growled. Hermione smacked him again, hard, with an open palm, causing Remus to cry out. Ignoring him, she pushed and directed him onto his back, his legs spread obscenely. She reached with little warning between them, gripping him hard, down on his hip when he bucked at the sensation.

"Where, Remus," she growled, hands rough where she touched him.

"There!" he gasped out, panting wildly, eyes closed and brow furrowed in a look that very nearly resembled pain. "Gods," he cried out at a particularly harsh stroke.

It took short moments before Remus was spent, sobbing his release, and trembling as Hermione petted him soothingly through the haze. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal, though Hermione's hands never left him as she encouraged his muscles to uncoil and relax. Taking a shuddering breath, he turned to face her. His eyes were red rimmed from the intensity of it all, but the gold was no more than sliver on the outer edges of the normally soft green.

Hermione smiled winningly. "Feeling better?" she asked cheekily, hands still petting down his spine.

Remus groaned, shaking his head and pressing his head back into the pillows. "Bloody hell, woman. I can't ever quite decide if you're a demon or a saint."

"It seems terribly small-minded of you that I can't be both."

Rolling his eyes, Remus shook his head and Hermione laughed. Grabbing at random a wand from the bedside table, Hermione waved Remus' wand, silently cleaning up any mess they may have made and pulling the covers neatly up their prone forms.

She dropped the wand where she'd found it before twisting around to press a kiss to his shoulder. "Sleep now, Remus."

Remus groused half-heartedly. "Legislation."

She tapped him on the nose admonishingly. "We'll talk to Kingsley about his thoughtless deadline after. Besides," she cooed, pressing herself against his prone form and undulating suggestively, pulling a whimper from Remus' chest. "I've got plans for Moony later." She wrapped herself more securely around the man beside her, and stroked his hair until he fell into an easy sleep.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** So part of me sort of wants to give up this little experiment and focus instead on my own original work, but I feel beholden to you who have continued to fav and follow and especially those of you who've commented. I think to that end, I'm going to commit to... wait, what number is this one? Only 8?! It feels like so many more than that! Maybe because it's technically 9 because I wrote Antonin Dolohov and then 10 because technically I did what I told myself I wouldn't and rewrote the Remus bit because the original idea just wasn't working.

Alright. I originally told myself I would be tickled if I managed 15 of my listed 20 and I think I should stick with that. Remaining I think I'd like to write not in any particular order: Rabastan Lestrange, Ron Weasley, Sirius Black (likely a triad with Remus), Cedric Diggory, Neville Longbottom, and Antonin Dolohov, leaving my seventh choice up in the air in case anyone else has any brilliant situations or just someone they would really like to see.

 _Comments make the world go round!_


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